


Can't We Pretend

by MortalGiant



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Musician Jaskier | Dandelion, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Slow Build, Young Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, it takes them a minute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:15:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27735181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MortalGiant/pseuds/MortalGiant
Summary: Jaskier and Geralt reconnect unexpectedly after ten years apart, forcing them to revisit old wounds and the memories surrounding them. As time goes on they see just how much their relationship has changed.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

He was bleeding.   
Not much, really- just a split lip that dribbled down his chin as he stared at the roof of the car. Patches of the fabric were loose and falling free in places they hadn't been before. The seats were worn to hell as well. If he tried hard enough he could probably count the springs. 

How long had it been since he’d laid back here wasted? 

Nine? No…gods...ten years now.

It’s not like Jaskier had planned for any of this. He was in town for the week and decided stopping in the Rosemary and Thyme was a good idea. Zoltan was still tending bar, but his recognition of anyone ended there. He’d hoped, though would never really admit it to himself, that the old gang would be sitting there waiting. They'd all have a beer and catch up and he'd be on his way. No harm, no foul. To his credit, Zoltan did manage to give him a bit of a rundown on who was still coming around before shit hit the fan.

See, fighting had always been a bad habit of Jaskier's. He’d tried to curb it, but somethings things just happen. In this case, things came in the form of a belligerent drunk who was convinced Jaskier was a good target. He hurled all manner of insult from jabs at how he dressed to crude guesses at his sexuality. All in all, it was neither creative nor new. If the man hadn't started shoving at his arm he probably would have let it pass with a huff. But as these things tend to go, he shoved and Jaskier shoved back and all went belly up.

Just by his grand fucking luck, Geralt had gotten the idea to pop in for a drink the moment fists met flesh. 

He vaguely registered getting drug out into the parking lot for all the adrenaline and alcohol. At first, he tried to wriggle free but Geralt's grip on him was like iron. Realizing the futility of it, he let himself be led to the faded silver car. The brute held him against the vehicle by the front of his shirt as he pried open the rear door.

"Get in." Geralt growled.

Jaskier looked at him dumbly, "I will not! I refused to be kidnapped by some bastard who-"

"Would you rather I leave you here to get ganged up on?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Get. In."

Once Jaskier was free of his clutches, he took a moment to look around the lot. A few of the onlookers had already spilled out of the bar, including the man he'd been fighting, and they were eyeing him down rather severely from under the fading neon sign. He nodded and slipped into the back of the car, letting Geralt close the door as he lay back. The car shifted as the other man slid into the driver's seat.

After a few silent moments, Jaskier shifted to look at him. He was staring out onto the street as if looking for something. The tension in his jaw and neck was visible, and he gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. Knowing Geralt, he was probably finding the best way to tell him he'd ruined his life yet again.

It was painfully familiar, even if the back of the passenger seat had what looked like marker stains in all sorts of colors. Even if the smell of cheap cigarettes from years past had been replaced by the cheap air freshener that hung where a friendship bracelet once did. Even if he was ten years older, and Geralt was ten years older. The dark leather of his jacket hadn’t changed. Neither had the way he tied his hair or the achingly long silence. It made Jaskier's throat burn a bit as Geralt finally started the car.

They rode in relative silence for a while, only speaking when Geralt asked him where he was staying and he gave him the name of the hotel. Of course, it had to be across town. He liked being difficult, he supposed.

“You still have Roach...” It just kind of slipped out as Jaskier ran fingers over a split seam in the seat. Vesimir had passed her on to Geralt when he turned eighteen. He had asked once why she was named such, and Geralt just shrugged that they'd always had silver cars and they were all named after the fish.

Geralt grunted, as he always had, and he thought that was the end of that until the man actually opened his mouth. “Still runs.” 

"Somehow," he huffed, finally dragging himself to sit up. "I can’t imagine holding on so long." 

“Ciri wants her.” 

Oh. 

He remembered when Pavetta and Duny had asked Geralt to be Ciri’s godfather. It was right after she’d found out she was pregnant, and Geralt agreed at their collective encouragement and they all celebrated good and proper. Later that evening Jaskier had to spend a lot of time talking down Geralt’s anxiety over what he just agreed to. “It’s not like anything will actually happen to them.” He had said.

Then came the car accident.

Kind of the beginning of the end, in a way.

“How’s she?” 

Geralt sighed as they slowed to stop at a light. "Fine. A pain in my ass, but a good kid."

“Quite the artist too, it seems.” Jaskier smiled a touch as he tapped at the marker scribbles.

“Helped her stay calm on drives.” 

He offered an acknowledging sound as he turned to gaze out the window. The streets were lit a little differently now. Brighter LEDs had replaced the golden glow they’d all grown up with. Most cities had them now, but it felt odd for them to be here. Slowly they started to pass by once more until a familiar corner came and went. He smiled as he remembered being kicked out of the club that used to be there. Instead of trying to find the next, Jaskier belted I Wanna Dance With Somebody and swung Yennefer around under the streetlight as Mr. Too Cool To Dance tried to look tough and glared at anyone who yelled at them. Polaroids of that night still rested in a shoebox in his closet. He never did have it in him to toss them.

Jaskier caught himself humming along to the song again, quieting when he glanced, and caught Geralt looking at him through the rearview. There was something distant in those amber eyes.

“They closed about four years ago.” 

The fact that Geralt still remembered pulled something tight in his chest. He wondered if Geralt thought of it just as fondly. Though since Jaskier recalled stealing his jacket and pretending to be all brooding, probably not.

“A shame, they always had the best music.” 

Geralt hmmm’d. 

His thoughts wandered to day trips and drunken nights all spent in Roach. Yen would prop her feet on the dash in the summer and stare out the window while he serenaded them both, at least until he got told to shut up. Once they'd even packed up and camped out at a ren-fair for the weekend with little more than a suggestion to start it off. Geralt won some swordsmanship competition or something, and Jaskier and Yen had run off to buy the most ridiculous clothing. Gods, they made fun of that stupid hat for weeks.

He remembered arguments too. Once he’d watched as Geralt stormed off one way and Yen the other leaving him to sit on the hood working out yet another song. It was hours before either of them came back. Sometimes they would team up and get on to Jaskier for something, or he would prod too far and too hard about one thing or another.

They argued a lot towards the end of his time there, and knowing Geralt and Yen, it carried on long after.

“I miss it, you know? Miss you...” It came out muffled as Jaskier smushed his cheek into the passenger seat. "Hate how quiet and lonely everything got. I mean it was quiet with you anyway but…ah shit…sorry"

Jaskier rubbed at his burning eyes with his sleeve, an anxious laugh bubbling up through his raw throat. He had a bad habit of getting sad when he drank, always had, but stuck in a car with a man he hadn't spoken to in years had a way of pulling things forward rather violently. Going a decade without speaking to the closest person to you had that effect, he supposed. He cursed himself for crying, slumping back hard into the seat as the car rolled to a stop. The hotel was just beyond his window.

Geralt stayed silent while the engine stuttered, but kept running as valiantly as she ever had while they just…sat there. He didn't move to shut her down or take his hand from the wheel. Instead, he just stared forward as he had before their little trip down memory lane began. Well, maybe not their trip per se. Geralt was more the chauffeur and less a participant for all Jaskier knew.

Taking a deep breath, Jaskier collected himself. “Thank you, Geralt. I…I’ll see you around.”

He shoved the door open with a creak, careful to keep his feet under him as he climbed out. The world was on a tilt still and he knew it was going to be fun dragging himself to his room. He let her door fall shut behind him and pushed onward to the hangover that was sure to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> This is based on the song Sweet Fading Silver by The Howl & The Hum. I HIGHLY recommend you give it a listen, as well as a couple of other songs from them that give me Modern Witcher AU vibes.
> 
> Specifically:  
> Hostages - A Geralt/Yen Breakup  
> A Hotel Song - BIG Jaskier vibes.
> 
> Update note: I've changed the tags because I decided I wanted this to go in the direction of them eventually falling into a relationship now that it's more than one chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

Geralt made it four blocks before he had to pull over.

His heart pounded like a frightened hare's as he tried to collect himself. The fake leather groaned under his tightening grip with each flex. He needed to calm down; he needed to breathe. After a moment of searching, he found a point to stare at -the glow of a distant 24-hour shop- and counted down slowly.

Ten

Nine

Eight

Why did he even go to the fucking bar?

Seven

He wasn't supposed to be there…

Six

Neither of them was.

He was going to be late and he knew it and he-

and then there was a fight…

he could hear Zoltan yelling from outside, he could hear the cheering and yelling.

And there he was, snarling and bloody and-

-and all he could think to do was get him out.

"FUCK!!" Geralt slammed his palm against the steering wheel over and over until his arm trembled.

He leaned forward, forehead resting against the crest of the wheel as he cradled the half-numb limb in his lap. Breaths came ragged through the shreds of his throat. Somewhere beside him, there was a buzzing but the ringing in his ears was too loud to let it through clear enough. Probably just the car protesting the lash of anger, he thought. But then it came again, more insistent, more annoying. Geralt glanced at the clock on the dash and cursed again, much quieter this time.

In the time it took to get a handle on his cellphone, the call dropped and another started. 'Princess' came up on the little screen. He flipped it open and sunk back into the seat.

"Hey! Where are you at? You promised you'd be here an hour ago and mom is pissed."

"Language, Ciri." He grunted

"I go to public school, dad. So, where are you?"

Geralt looked around for a moment, not really recognizing much. "I'll be there soon, okay? Tell Yen I apologize for being late but something came up and-"

"Something always comes up, Geralt." Yennefer's voice came over the phone as if yelled from a distance, followed by Ciri filling him in that he was on speakerphone.

"She told me to," The girl whispered. "You were ignoring her calls."

He groaned, his eyes screwing shut. How many times had Yen even called? Actually, he didn’t want to think about it.

"So," Right on cue, Yennefer chimed in much closer and much more annoyed than before. "what 'came up' that was so important you missed picking your child up on time yet again?" He could practically see her face as she spoke.

Tensing up again, Geralt tried to think of the best way to explain the events of the evening. Nothing he came up with would do it real justice. Telling her he was stopping at the Rosemary would get him a disgusted grunt and an ended call, and laying everything out would take too long. So he went with the first thing to fall out of his mouth.

"Jaskier."

There was an entirely too long -only a few seconds long- silence that followed. He could hear shifting around, a quiet protest from Ciri, and then Yennefer's voice returned.

"What do you mean, Geralt." The harshness of her voice had bled out into something even but still serious.

He swallowed, watching a few figures mill around outside the store smoking as he worked to find the words. What he wouldn't give for a cigarette.

"He's in town." It came out weaker than he would have liked. "I gave him a ride to his hotel, Yen. He was drunk and bloody and…and I couldn't-…"

She was quiet again until she sighed. "Did you talk to him? I don’t mean hold a conversation. I mean TALK, like an adult and not an emotionally repressed statue?"

It was his turn to remain silent, even when she cursed him under her breath.

"Do you know what you're going to do?" Her tone told him this wasn't a question.

"Yen-"

"Don't 'Yen' me Geralt. You're going to talk to him. I don't care how; call him, text him, go back to that hotel and crawl on your hands and knees for fucks sake." There was a quiet 'Hey!' from Ciri. "Talk. To. Him. Fix your mess. I'm sick of the moods you get in every time you hear a song of his or gods forbid see him in the tabloids. She can stay with me another night, alright? Just…sort this out. "

Both of them seemed it fitting to sigh at that point, and Yen's slipped into a slight chuckle. A Geralt scrubbed at his face with his hand, she spoke again.

"I expect an update no later than tomorrow morning. A bottle of wine as an apology wouldn't be turned down either. Ciri! Come say goodnight to your idiot father."

There was a shuffle as the phone was passed back yet again. "Hey, dad..."

He grunted. 

"You're not an idiot, mom is just annoyed is all." Geralt smiled slightly at her words. "Text me when you get home, okay? Goodnight, I love you."

"Love you too, princess. Goodnight."

Once the call was finally ended Geralt tossed his phone into the passenger seat and let out a long, controlled breath through his nose. Yennefer was always too good at getting into his head as well as under his skin. They still held love for each other, sure, but it lacked the rose tint of romance it had held long ago. Years of exasperation and lack of living up to expectation wore them too thin to fall back into place.

As he stared up at the worn-thin fabric he thought of everything that had gotten them all to this point. All the annoying jabs and late-night rescues from seedy bars had been the result of his first day at school with Jaskier. Geralt had chosen to sit alone, and Jaskier had decided that that was absolutely not going to happen no matter how many times he told him to fuck off. By his luck, they also seemed to share a walk home. Although that quickly resulted in a swift punch to the gut for the musician that somehow failed to deter him. To say it was a rocky beginning was an understatement.

But they grew on each other.

They told each other of their lives slowly; how Geralt had come to live with Vesemir, and how much Jaskier hated living in what he called his gilded cage. Afternoons quickly burned to night as they wandered streets and explored old run-down buildings. There were countless times where he'd get blamed by Jaskier's parents (to Vesemir, mostly) for being a horrible influence on him, only to get prodded to go out yet again the next night. He'd almost always bring something fancy from his father's bar as an apology.

"He'll never notice." He'd grin and wink to appease Geralt's questioning. He did, of course, notice.

When Yennefer came along, she and Jaskier could trade barbs and quips like he'd never seen. They were a force to be reckoned with when working together, though they butted heads more often than not. The times they truly got along led to the most memorable of what Jaskier, and eventually all of them, came to refer to as their 'adventures'. Dancing in the streets and shot-fueled karaoke nights and endless hours spent just driving for the sake of getting away.

A lot of those nights in the particular, the escapes, were just Geralt and Jaskier. He would drive to wherever Jaskier was at the time, be it home or couch-surfing (or later dorm or apartment), pick him up, and they would spend hours spinning the wheels listening to whatever cassettes he'd grabbed. If it was Jaskier's escape he would wax poetic about whatever ill fate had come upon him at the moment. There were hints to the deeper natures but Geralt would never push. If Geralt was the one running…Jaskier would still talk. He'd fill the empty space with nothing because that's what he needed. Something to take away the focus from the noise in his own head.

It's what he needed now more than ever.

Cursing, Geralt grabbed for his phone again and pecked out a message to Yennefer asking her to look up the number to the hotel. She responded not a few seconds later, followed by 'I'm buying you a smartphone.' that no doubt came with an unseen eyeroll.

Once he got through and convinced the front desk to patch him through, the anxiousness in his chest only grew with each ring. By the third, he was convinced the other man was either refusing to answer any call or had simply passed out. As the forth rang through he was ready to give in when the line came to life.

"Hello." Jaskier sounded exhausted. "Hello, who is this?"

"It's…It's me, Jaskier. Geralt."

Silence took over the line for a long stretch and he wanted to crawl in on himself. Jaskier was bound to hang up on him. He had the right, he supposed. But then a heavy sigh broke through.

"What do you want?"

"I want to talk…I want to apologize.."

"And you couldn't do it face to face?" He gave a breathy chuckle when Geralt didn't answer straight away. "No, of course not. Have to do it the easy way."

"That's not what I meant by calling."

"What did you mean then? Why couldn't you have just said something when I was right there?"

Geralt could practically feel Jaskier seething through the phone. The laxness of his voice had almost completely dissolved into something bitter. It made his own anger bubble in his chest.

"Because I was afraid!" He yelled back before he could settle himself. He immediately snapped his mouth shut.

There was a quiet beat. "Explain."

Swallowing hard, Geralt switched the phone to the other ear. He rested his free arm against the steering wheel and pressed his forehead into his palm. The words danced in his mind but died on his tongue every time he opened his mouth. As if sensing his struggle, Jaskier spoke again.

"Tell me, Geralt."

"I ruined everything when…when we last saw each other. I was afraid that if I said anything wrong I'd cause it all over again. I couldn't do that. I'm sorry."

As he spoke, he looked up and flipped down the driver's side visor. Clipped to the inside was an old Polaroid of the two of them with Geralt piggy-backing Jaskier. A beaming smile painted the musician's face as he clung to his shoulders. Geralt, for a change, was laughing. He was wearing the same old leather jacket he had on now. The damn thing was getting a bit worse for wear twelve years later.

"I'm sorry." He repeated, unsure of where his words were going. "I didn't want to hurt you again."

"But you did." The crack in Jaskier's throat only made his chest twist more.

"I know."

There was a shaky breath on Jaskier's end followed by a curse. He could hear him moving around and the phone was set down only for a moment before coming to life again.

"If you mean it, truly mean it, come here and tell me. Look me in the eyes and tell me you're sorry Geralt. I think I'm owed that."

Geralt shut his eyes tight and agreed, his heart pounding as Jaskier gave his room number over with a sniffle and promptly hung up. He couldn't turn his back this time around, and he wouldn't.

Getting to the hotel felt like ages as his mind sped through memories old and new of the struggles since their fight. How his own words haunted him and how every image of his friend's face brought everything roaring back. The songs, though, drove the deepest of them all. It didn't help that the most famous and most regularly played of Jaskier's songs was one he'd been around to hear the creation of.

It was high summer and Jaskier was sprawled in the back of Roach, some thrifted button up barely buttoned as he strummed away on his guitar. The windows were down but even through the roar of the wind, he could hear the first few lines taking form. The first of many small local shows would follow not long after with it as his opening piece. Soon, when new songs made their way in, folks would demand it. He had the first CD on a bookcase somewhere, if Ciri hadn't tried to claim it as her own yet.

When Geralt finally pulled up to the hotel once again, he took one last breath before slipping out of the car and making his way up the path he'd watched Jaskier take. It was a rather upscale place lacking the borderline clinical feel of most chain places he had stayed in. Not to mention that it was leagues above the dives he used to frequent. Despite his admittedly intimidating appearance, the clerk allowed him on his way without much huff, possibly because they had been warned ahead of his arrival. One agonizingly slow elevator ride later and Geralt found himself staring down the room number Jaskier had given him.

He only had to knock once before the door swung open.

Jaskier stood before him with glassy, tired eyes that widened a bit upon seeing him. The dried blood had been cleaned off his lip and there was a bit of a redness now visible in the light that would no doubt bruise in a day or two. Otherwise, he still sported the same disheveled clothes and mussed up hair. He was willing to bet he'd merely cleaned off and laid down before his call.

"Geralt." He seemed wary as if addressing a ghost.

"Jaskier, I'm-"

Before he could speak any further he was sent reeling by a heavy slap to his face. It dazed him, sending him off-kilter for a moment as he tried to refocus on the man in front of him. As he steadied himself he was pulled forward into a tight hug as Jaskier wrapped his arms around his neck.

"You're an absolute bastard, Geralt." It was half-spoken into his neck as Jaskier held on.

Unsure of what to do, Geralt hesitated for a moment before wrapping his own arms around Jaskier and letting his head fall against his shoulder. "I know."

"A downright prick."

"I am."

"And you came."

Geralt's throat burned as he nodded against Jaskier, words barely more than a whisper. "I did…I'm sorry."

He wasn't sure how long he stood in that doorway, or how long they spent talking as they sat in Roach by the riverside. All he knew was that it was sunrise when he glanced over and Jaskier was asleep curled under the old blanket he kept stowed under the passenger seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all liked the addition!
> 
> I've yet again decided to change the chapter amount after some input from a friend, and have some ideas as to how we could continue this story for them.  
> I've also decided to carry this on as a relationship story for the two of them, hence tag and rating changes. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think!  
> Thank you!


End file.
